


I am Not a Good Man - Hux POV musing

by MademoiselleS



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Hux - Freeform, Hux POV, Kylux - Freeform, M/M, armitage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:35:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25226893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MademoiselleS/pseuds/MademoiselleS
Summary: I listen to acoustic songs with deep singing voices. They inspire me to write these monologues sometimes.





	I am Not a Good Man - Hux POV musing

I couldn’t stop the sweat from salting my eyes, mixing with the tears i so desperately fought subconsciously as my main focus remained on the task at hand. My arms were strong, but my fingers were hesitant, not because of the mission I was given, but because I was afraid to fail. That fear stays with me today, how it held me down like chains attached to cinderblocks in a room that was filling with water. The humidity was choking me, my lungs filling with unnecessary weight that slowed my otherwise nimble body and I found my movement clunky and embarrassing. I think of this time fondly, an eternal reminder of how weak humans truly can be when faced with the burden of greatness.

It was the glint of my gun, the warm colors reflecting from a nearby fire that brought me comfort. The orange and reds danced like a setting sun through distant mountains of a faraway desert planet. My index finger, pale as it was back and as pale as it is now, rested along the side of the trigger. Tranquility finally came with a deep breath until I heard my commander usher me forward. He reminded with a hand on my shoulder, yanking me back against my shifting weight- “You will kill your enemy when they come.” 

It was all I needed then and it is all I need now. 

Of all the days of my life, I have never once tried to convince myself I am a good man, because I am not. I let that truth and the truth of every mission seep into my core, replacing humidity and salt, instead letting that be the heaviness I would fight against. I wasn’t fighting to be righteous, I wasn’t trying to save the world because how can one save the world from itself? There would always be something bad, something worse that will come. I simply chose my side and came to terms with it long ago. 

I walk through the valley of shadow, and I see no evil more greater than myself, pitting my own ego upon a pedestal that others should strive to achieve as it is a symbol of power; And when I die, my soul is damned and once more, this is a fact I ponder often and allow it to ease my mind in a convoluted sense of accomplishment.

I have lived my life in chaos, I have burned a thousand times the images of innocent lives being taken into my mind and I choose to press on. I am an evil man, if only because I needed to be more evil than the man who helped bring me into this world as it was the only logical way to finally put him with the maggots. I refuse to credit him for what I have done, yet part of me wants to blame him, an unusual struggle that all these years later I wrestle with not knowing which is worse. 

“Hux.”

There it is, the grating deep voice that symbolizes everything I am not. Born into greatness, born into love with a loving family. A quaint image of innocence that was forced, much like myself, into surviving in this unusual culture of evil and hate. There is a brilliant distinction however: I was born into this world, no one sought me out. No one wanted me, my own father surely did not until his job needed me. But this man- a boy then, he was called, he was desired, he was groomed by a dark hand that I have felt only a handful of times in my own mind when it wanted to be discovered.

He struggles with it all, I can see it in him always wrestling with the good and evil That flows through him like volcanic lava that consumes all logic in its wake. Instead of merely accepting he has become an evil man, he tries to convince himself it is right. A childish notion that is better left in a dungeon, shackled deep in the darkness at the core. Life would be so much easier if he’d just accept there is no good for men like us, not with what we do. Like fire on my tongue, I want to tell him something comforting, advice that would serve him well but who am I to offer guidance to the man hand picked by Snoke. 

“Commander...” 

If I ignore it, sometimes it goes away even if in the darkest parts of my mind I want to call back to him. That raven haired young man who was given everything, who I try so hard to resent but can’t. Why can’t I do that? 

“Armitage!” 

It was an obnoxious bellow, but finally I was ripped from my mind and I looked at him, surely far angrier than I meant to. But those deep galactic eyes of brown caused me to advert my own, a look only he could achieve. 

He droned on about something I could care little about, but taking advantage of the reflection of glass, I was able to still study him and every curve and muscle of his face- a face I fought so hard to protect. In the beginning, it was my order, but now it is my choice, at least I try to convince myself of such things. Perhaps it is Snoke himself, known for his subtle mental games to make others bend to his will or the will of others. Why this thought does not anger me, I do not know but by the creed of my own desire for autonomy, I will continue to lie to myself even if it might be true, that I choose to now kill my enemies not for myself, but for him. 

Always him. 

Can I really still be so high on the pedestal of evil if I now live for something more than myself? Have I become blind to our actions if only to allow him to achieve?


End file.
